Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
by NeiLegni
Summary: "How could you explain all of that, and then tell someone, anyone, what you did? How you killed her before she died and she can never forgive you?" After a tragedy strikes, Quinn can't forgive the hurt she caused the girl she loved.


It isn't that you never got the chance to say goodbye. You did, and boy did you. It couldn't have been more final.

You led her to the courtyard after lunch and let your eyes grow cold and unfeeling, because how else could you force the words out of your mouth?

_I think it's best for both of us to just stop here before this gets too big, or too serious. You know that this isn't something we can do. _

The look on her face makes your fingers numb and the world spin. You want to wrap your arms around her tiny shoulders and bury your face in her dark hair and take it all back.

She stammers a rebuttal.

"But if we could just _try_, Quinn. We could make this work…we-we could make it something magical. We don't have to listen to the rumors or what other people think-"

And then you get angry.

"How can I not, Rachel? How can I ignore hundreds of eyes on me every day trying to pinpoint the exact second my life turned to shit? Was it when I got pregnant? Was it when I gave away my baby? Was it when I was dumped after a funeral? Or was it when I decided to sleep with you? I'm not doing this again, Rachel. I'm not going to be the hot gossip. How can you not expect me to listen when all I hear are whispers and judgments?"

"I just…I thought you loved me more than this."

You sneer, because if you don't you'll fall to your knees and the sobs will start and the tears will never stop falling. Nothing is worth all of that feeling.

"I never said I loved you."

And it's true, you never have. But you never needed to say the words. It was there in every touch and glance and song. Your stomach plummets and your cheeks burn with shame and you pray to whatever God might still love you after all of the shit that you've done that she can't see how much this kills you, because it hurts too much that you have to watch the shock register on her face. You barely see her break before she's off and running. Your instinct is to chase her and tell her that she's right, like always, but you know that you can't. You want the whispers to stop and you want to be on top again after so long.

_Everyone has to make sacrifices, _you told yourself the night before.

And then you hear a scream that travels straight down your spine and tires screech and everything around you starts to spin and you are running towards the sound faster than you've ever run at Cheerios practice because you know in the core of your being that your world has ended.

* * *

><p>You wear a black dress with black pumps and you carry a clutch that holds nothing but tissues. You're sandwiched between Santana and Brittany and each one has one of your hands. Santana holds on fiercely with both hands, trying to shield and protect you. Brittany has her fingers laced through yours with her thumb massaging the palm of your hand in a desperate attempt to soothe you. They don't know what happened between you two more than anyone else does, but they can sense your grief and have been at your side since you found her body in the street and haven't asked a single question.<p>

It's a closed casket. The bus did too much damage to allow her to be revealed but you know what she looks like under the cover of mahogany and the endless bouquets. You held her body as she left it and felt her head loll in your arms. You begged the EMT to let you ride along, even though her pulse had stopped long before they had arrived. When they said nothing could be done, every emotion you held back from Rachel in that courtyard came through and you ripped them apart. You screamed and you cried, and you vomited and they had to sedate you when the ambulance pulled into the ER.

And now you're calmer. You're thinner than you were because you can't eat. You have dark bags under your eyes because every time you close them to try to capture a moment's rest, you hear your own words; _I never said I loved you, _and the squeal of the breaks. But you aren't crying and you aren't shaking. You're staring straight ahead looking to all the world as if you're merely paying your respects.

* * *

><p>After the ceremony, Finn approaches you with tears clinging to his eyelashes and he pulls you against his chest. You comply but remain stiff. You never knew which one of you he preferred—it always seemed like it depended on who he had.<p>

"I miss her so much, Quinn."

"Yeah, me too."

"I can't believe she's gone."

He starts to cry heaving sobs and you feel the tears in your hair and you don't know what to do. You want to shove him away because how dare he cry over her when you are the one who killed her. _He_ can't believe she's gone? You're the one who will feel the grief and guilt gnawing away at you until your last breath.

There's no one you can tell. No one knows that you two had spent the last months of her life in her basement cuddled together watching _Funny Girl _and _A Chorus Line_ and _Gypsy_ and holding hands under blankets. No one knows that you kissed her as the snow fell on New Year's. No one knows that you held her sweaty body to yours and gazed at the tangle of gold and bronze, the honey and chocolate of your hair with your fingers still buried inside of her. No one knows that you were the one who bought her the little gold star earrings she wore every single day and, and no one knows that you took them off before the ambulance came so you would always have a piece of her.

How could you explain all of that, and then tell someone, anyone, what you did? How you killed her before she died and she can never forgive you?

* * *

><p>Mr. Shue cancels rehearsal the Monday after the funeral, which is really the only practical thing to do since without Rachel you don't have anything to prepare for this year's Nationals.<p>

He brings in Ms. Pillsbury and arranges the chairs in the circle and tries to get everyone to talk about their feelings. It's all very saccharine, with everyone talking about her talent, and suddenly changing their tunes about what they really thought of the Rachel Berry they all loved to hate. Kurt dabs his eyes with an embroidered hanky and Finn sits with his head in his hands.

You burn watching them mourn.

"Quinn, is there something you'd like to say?" Mr. Shuester looks like he's legitimately concerned and you want to say everything that's been swimming in your mind for days, but you carefully meet his eyes and say no.

"Now Quinn, this is a safe space. You won't be judged for anything you say and nothing will leave this room."

You shrug.

"Quinn, I'm sure you're feeling something. You and Rachel always had a…complicated relationship," Ms. Pillsbury says delicately.

"Fine, do you want to know what I think? I think it's sick and twisted that we're all sitting here talking about how much we miss and loved Rachel," _loved _brings a lump to your throat but you continue, acting unfazed, "when in reality everyone in this room spent half of their time here bitching about how obnoxious she was. You can't hate someone every day of their existence and then pretend to miss them when they're gone."

Mr. Shue lets out a long sigh and Ms. Pillsbury's eyes widen.

"Quinn, it isn't our place to say who is entitled to feel what after a tragedy. Sometimes it takes a disaster to really see how much someone meant to us."

But you've already left the room and have stormed through the front doors of McKinley. You walk to the street where flowers and stuffed animals have been strewn across the road and you sink to your knees and wait for the sobs to come.

When they don't you feel somehow worse than you did before. It's as if it's disrespectful to not have any tears left.

"Damn it, Rachel!" you scream. This wasn't supposed to happen. If you had just run after her, or thought a little harder, or realized sooner that it wasn't all about your fucking reputation, she would still be here. You would hold her and kiss her ears the way she liked and you would tell her over and over how much you loved her.

You lie in the street clutching flower petals in your hands.

_I love you I love you I love you I love you_

Footsteps.

You sit up, startled, and start to stand, but Finn lowers himself to the ground next to you and wraps you in his arms.

"You know, I know how much this hurts."

"There's no way you know how much this fucking hurts."

"I loved her too, Quinn. Maybe not like you did, but I loved her. I've never seen anyone love anyone the way you loved Rachel and it must hurt so bad that she's gone-"

"I'm going to stop you right now and tell you again that you don't know what you're talking about."

"I know that it feels like your heart can't keep beating without hers and I know that you would give your own life to bring her back. And I know you think it's your fault because of the things that you said, but it isn't."

How does he know what you said?

"I know that you feel like if you knew the ending, you would have changed everything, but you can't, Quinn. She's gone."

"Thanks for the reminder. I almost forgot-"

"Listen to me!"

You're startled into silence.

"We all know how much you loved her, but being angry and hating yourself isn't going to bring her back."

You start to cry, but your tears roll silently as your body rocks.

"I told her I never loved her…"

"I know. I heard the conversation. It was an accident."

"But I didn't mean it."

You let yourself be drawn into an embrace and it helps for the moment.

"I think that she knows that. I think she can see you and that she knows what you're feeling. And I think she knows how guilty you feel and I think she knows that you have been wishing for almost a week that you could have done things differently.""

"Do you think she blames me?"

"No."

"I want another chance," you say softly, but inside you're screaming and begging.

Finn closes his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"We all do."

"If I had just—"

"It doesn't matter."

And that sticks with you. You can't what if this away. That idea breaks you and you start crying even harder than you did when you found her.

Finn carries you to his car and you don't protest.

"Do you want to go home?"

"No. Take me to her house."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

* * *

><p>Her dad opens the door and he doesn't look surprised to see you.<p>

"I knew it was only a matter of time until we saw you again."

He hugs you and you gulp back the tears. Pictures of her are everywhere. It's as if she's looking directly at you and you feel so exposed and so guilty.

You tell Leroy how much you loved his daughter. You tell him all of the things you wish you had told Rachel and you tell him how sorry you are.

You are terrified to tell him how you broke her heart right before she died, but you have to. The guilt eats you up inside and when you tell him, it feels as if someone sliced your body in half and the world spilled out. You can't stop crying and you apologize over and over and you start to hyperventilate. When Hiram comes into the room with a glass of water and box of tissues, you realize that both men are crying with you and you're still here. They hold you and they grieve with you and you let yourself feel.

"I'm so sorry."

"Quinn, you didn't do it."

"But I—"

"You hurt her, but you didn't push her. You didn't drive the bus. You didn't make it happen."

_It isn't your fault._

And somewhere, this starts to sink in.

You end up staying for dinner. They invite you to stay a little longer. You accept.

Leroy puts The Wizard of Oz into the DVD player and the movie's grainy black and white beginning fills the screen.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true._

You like to think that maybe that's where she is now. Maybe she's performing for the other angels and soaking up the spotlight she's always deserved.

* * *

><p>3 months later<p>

You would still give anything to bring her back and you still re-imagine her last moments in your head. You still feel heartsick and guilty, and you still vow you will never watch _Funny Girl _again.

But you feel less guilty now. And you have stopped feeling guilty about feeling less guilty. This grieving thing is confusing.

You've opened yourself up to the people you love and the people who love you. You told the glee club how much you loved her. You told them how you miss her. You told them how you wished you could have told her how much you loved her and how you wish you could have saved her. You don't tell them how you hurt her—they might not all be as understanding as Finn.

You talk to her every night. You tell her about your day and you tell her how much you love her. You used to apologize over and over, but you feel like she would have gotten bored.

There are times you swear that she's spoken back to you. You've felt her in the room before and those moments soothe you more than any amount of therapy has.

You used to hear her more but as time goes on you hear her less. You like to think she's busy up there rehearsing for a show. It makes you feel better to think that she's living her dreams in the afterlife.

Once you swear you hear her tell you that she forgives you. It's the middle of the night and you awake from a dream with her voice ringing in your ears telling you that it's okay. You believe her and things feel different.

You still love her with all of your heart. You still relieve those moments every day and ache to do things differently. But you feel less jagged now, as if some of the pieces are being put back into place. It hurts to move forward but you know that it would hurt more to stay exactly where you are.

Someday you'll see her again and you'll hold her in your arms and tell her everything you wish you had before she died. She'll listen and hold you too and you'll cry together. Until then, you make yourself put one foot in front of the other, just as she would have wanted you to.


End file.
